


A Man Such As You

by Tippytap



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Krycek is in love, M/M, Mulder is not reciprocal, Pining, The focus is on Krycek's thoughts, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tippytap/pseuds/Tippytap
Summary: He wanted to believe.And he wanted Mulder to be the man to make him
Kudos: 6





	A Man Such As You

**Author's Note:**

> Alex Krycek has the hots for Mulder. This is the hill I will die on. 
> 
> He is a rat bastard though, isn't he.

Alex Krycek was not a complicated man.

At least, not so far as wants and desires were concerned.

He saw what he liked and he applied himself to obtain it.

And what he liked right now was one Fox Mulder.

When he'd told Mulder that he was an admirer of his from back at the academy, he wasn't lying.

Not completely.

He'd found the way that Mulder thought intriguing. He wanted to follow the process, to see how he connected the threads, and to learn the silver patterns of his mind.

He wanted to believe.

And he wanted Mulder to be the man to make him.

He tried so hard to make it work. 

To say, without saying.

Hanging off of Mulder's every word. He couldn't agree with everything he said, but he tried to be supportive, to be a partner. But Mulder's eyes continued to slide over him. 

When she was around it was even worse. Mulder stood ridiculously close to her speaking in low, intimate tones. It was as if Krycek didn't even exist. When Scully was around Mulder forgot about him entirely. 

In his more bitter moments, Krycek sarcastically toyed with the idea of one day showing up to work sporting a red wig. Just to see what would happen.

But only to himself would he admit to his small but growing jealousy towards her. It was unseemly, even to his own mind, but those feelings existed and there was nothing he could do about it.

For she was there already.

Mulder trusted her. Their minds worked well together, puzzling out clues and confusions.

Her clinical observations and demand for solid proof could somehow mesh and harmonize with his more open-minded beliefs and an inclination toward unorthodox tactics.

For a very suspicious and cynical man, this was not something to be idly dismissed.

If he were honest, it wasn't just Mulder's mind that he wanted to explore.

Underneath that ill-fitting suit was a lithe, and athletic runner's body, that was often the subject of his private, and more turbulent fantasies. 

He knew Mulder didn't like him.

But Krycek didn't care.

At least, not too much. 

Not enough.

It did sting a bit, to know how very little Mulder thought of him.  
Though, to be fair, he was spying on him. With some days requiring him to be more two-faced than others.

He knew that none of superiors would believe him, but he really hadn't intended for any of this to happen.

But Mulder was just so… Unusual.

He'd been intrigued by him before, but to actually be near him, to have that connection, no matter how slim or superficial...

Then again, he couldn't use that excuse either. It was bogus and there was no way he could sell it, most certainly not to these people.  
Because his attraction had been almost immediate.

Mulder had locked those blue/grey/green (what the fuck were they? Another thing to vex him apparently) eyes one him just once, and Alex Krycek was gone, gone, gone. Knocked straight out of the park.

It was so frustrating. Mulder's voice dripped through his mind and permeated him. He would catch himself just watching, staring actually, and have to snap himself back into focus before he got caught.  
His actions were mesmerizing. 

Sometimes, as a repayment for all his troubles and confoundment, he would let himself have a little fun.

A quiet, secret in the dark, type of fun. 

He would bring up images.

Private, lascivious, dark purple things that made him pant out loud.

Mulder.

With his head tipped back, and his eyes tightly, blissfully, thankfully closed.

His beautiful lips parted, with his breath rasping between them.

He pictured touching him, and having Mulder's body arching, straining, up and up to meet his touch. 

Far beyond what Krycek's rational mind knew would actually be possible. 

But the picture was too good to try and change with facts and accuracys.

Sometimes, he would add in a bit of spit. Letting Mulder shine slick in the fevered glow of his mind's light. 

Mulder's lips were the last thing he would think about.

When he couldn't take it any longer, and he was writhing, pushing against nothing, he would focus on those lips and try to match his breathing to that of the imaginary Mulder's. 

That was what would end him, pushing him up, and over the edge, to come plummeting down into a dusky haze.

And there he would lay, with Mulder's name still warm on his tongue.

His breath burned as it ran across his skin, and even the lightest touch felt like sparking electricity. 

Every exhale made his body shudder and twitch.

One hand rested lightly on the top of a slick thigh, while the other clenched and unclenched in his starched white sheets. Trembling through the afterglow and waiting for his breathing to regulate, and the sweat on his skin to cool.

And then always the doubts would come. So he tried not to use Mulder very often, or at the very least, not so explicitly. 

Plus it made the next morning's car ride so damnably uncomfortable.

And he had to work with him. Every. Single. Day.

Could he continue on like this? After all, the only reason he had been partnered with Mulder was to take him out.

He was there to observe and report on Mulder's behavior and investigations, and if things went too far he was to confound Mulder's progress as discreetly and effectively as possible.

"Is there any conflict of interest growing?" They had asked him after the first few weeks of his assignment.

"No sir." Krycek had replied, lying through his teeth.

Because never in his life had he ever been so conflicted between duty and devotion.

In following his orders he had killed a man.

And in a flagrant dismissal of those very same orders, he had also saved a man.

Mulder.

Krycek had seen him on that tram and he knew that he wasn't going to stop. And he knew that if he didn't do something, Mulder would wind up dead.

Krycek couldn't let that happen. 

He couldn't watch from a detached and impersonal monitor and do nothing.

So he let him run after Scully.  
  
The level of relief he felt slam into him when he saw Mulder dash across to the solid, safe ground almost sickened him. He couldn't afford to be so reckless.

The men he worked for were cold, the minute they suspected he wasn't at his A-game he would be swiftly disposed of. That was the fact of the job and he knew it. No one would ever know what happened to him, he would simply disappear, left to molder and rot in the ground of some long forgotten place.…

….. oh, to hell with the consequences. It was too late anyhow.

For a basically uncomplicated man, he was beginning to live in rapidly complex world.

**Author's Note:**

> I've just finished season 2, so if something is wrong I apologize in advance and please, let me know.


End file.
